The Sacrifice
by Quinn Aries
Summary: Loki x Reader. You were meant to be sacrificed to a god, left to die. They probably should have checked which god first. Loosely based on the Grimm fairy tale, The Girl With the Silver Hands
1. Chapter 1

"We found her hiding in the back streets, Sir." A guard said gruffly. His accomplice held you up by the hair when you could barely kneel. The Baliff nodded curtly. "Have her taken to my estate. She will be placed in the dungeon until I have determined the best course of action."

"No..., please..." you murmured, giving an undignified yelp as the guard pulled you to your feet, picking you up and throwing you unceremoniously into the back of a cart.

Every few seconds there would be a painful jolt, but your hands were tied and you couldn't pull yourself up into a sitting position.

Who would have known that one mistake could bring your life to such an undignified end? While the man who still sent a shiver down your spine every time you thought of him walked free. You could still feel his cruel hands, the bruises on your skin were bright signs of your struggle.

After what seemed like hours but was probably closer to minutes, the cart came to a sharp stop.

You were being roughly grabbed again, thrown over the guard's shoulder and carried through the luxurious halls of the Baliff's home.

The dungeons were exactly as one might expect. Dank, cold and vile smelling. There you waited on a thin layer of straw, shivering in your ripped dress until someone saw fit to retrieve you for your punishment.

"C'mon, Girlie. The Baliff's made up his mind." There was the sound of the doors unlocking and you peeked up through curtains of unwashed hair at the guard.

You were deposited directly at the Baliff's feet.

"It's an honorable punishment you'll be serving, little whore," he said, hand behind his back. He didn't even want to look at your pathetic form, instead looking to the guard behind you. You wanted to spit in face or fly at him with your fists, but it was futile.

He continued. "You won't simply be put to death, no. You'll have the honor of being given up."

Your blood ran cold. Being given up meant only one thing.

"Take her out to the woods and get our high priest."

"NO! YOU CANNOT DO THIS!" you screamed with a surprising amount of force for one so badly broken. The Baliff said nothing, merely watched with detached interest as you were dragged away once more, kicking and screaming.

You were tied up again, this time against a tree, and you were gagged. The rope was so tight that it cut into your wrists and the blood ran down your arms, dripping into the grass. A few seemingly strange and random items were laid at your feet. A dead rabbit, a gold coin, a bunch of green roses cut from the manor gardens.

"Today we call upon the gods," the priest intoned. "We send unto you an impure soul as sacrifice. Take out offering as blessing, grant us impunity, protect out souls from this demon's sway!"

You wanted to prove your innocence, that you were no demon or siren. You wanted to, but couldn't do anything but watch as the high priest performed his sacrifice.

"In our name, we beseech thee!" With a final flourish, he took one look at you, turned tail and ran.

You did not know how long you'd been there. It felt like eternity. The night came. There was no sound at all in this wood. They called it a sacrifice in the name of the gods, but the only ones who would be taking advantage of this would be wolves and carrion birds.

"Well, this is certainly a surprise." You heard a man's voice. Immediately your thoughts turned to the man in the alley and you shuddered. You squeezed your eyes shut. Something brushed along your jaw and you flinched, still refusing to look.

"When I get these sacrifice in my name, it's usually something insignificant. A part of a roast, or a stillborn infant. Not a fully grown woman."

A muffled whimper sounded through the gag. Then you felt it loosen as it was pulled from your face. Next there was a sawing of ropes and your hands and ankles were freed. You sort of slumped forward into the grass, unnmoving.

There was a sigh of annoyance. "Must I do everything myself? Those foolish mortals..."

You felt yourself being picked up more gently than before, and carried in the mystery person's arms.

You woke and something felt different. The gentle up and down you felt was not from riding, or another cart. It was your mystery savior's chest. You were pressed tightly against a gold plated chestplate, as you were still being carried.

You just barely peeked up through your eyelashes at the face of a god. For who else could it be, but a god who saw fit take the sacrifice as his own.

"We're almost there." His voice was smoother than velvet. His eyes were what caught your attention though. They were the color of the sea, not quite blue or green, and perfectly serene.

There, up ahead, was a little cottage. It looked small but well kept, yet somehow it was clearly abandoned and sort of sad.

He carried you in and set you down on the bed before taking a seat on the edge. He was the picture of relaxed, but his expression was shrewd.

"Now, is there a reason why you were offered up to me? Not that i'm not flattered, but I don't see the purpose."

"It-" Your voice stuck in your throat. "It was my punishment."

"What on Midgard would be so horrible that being given up to me was a suitable punishment?'

You couldn't stop the few rebellious tears from escaping as you stammered. "I... he... he forced me to... I had no choice. I-I'm impure..."

"I see. And that is a punishable offense here?" He leaned forward slightly, hands wrapping around your bloodied wrists. A green light swirled from his fingertips and your eyes grew round watching the cuts shrink until only the faintest of scars remained.

"I am sorry, (y/n). For everything."

"D-Don't apologize. It's not your fault. I-I'm fine now."

"No, you're not," he interjected harshly. "Your life will never be the same."

"What? What do you mean?" Your voice wavered and your dread grew.

"If I could find the man who did this..." His voice was dark and it frightened you. "You are under my protection now, both of you."

"You... you would protect him too?" The confusion was plain in your eyes.

"You do not know...?" The look he sent you was so pitying that it only made you fear all the more. "You are with child, (y/n)."


	2. Chapter 2

_"No."_

"(y/n)?" His voice was so serene, even now.

"No, no, no!" you repeated, shaking your head wildly. Leaning forward you clutched your stomach. "It's not true. It can't be true!"

"I would not lie to you. I am a god, we see these sort of things." He placed a tentative hand on your shoulder and you shuddered, retracting from his touch.

"I can't do this!" you wailed. "I have nothing..."

"Look around, (y/n)," Loki ordered. You lifted your head, taking in the interior of the cabin for the first time. It was cozy to say the least. There were some basic amenities and the whole place was lit with candles. "You have everything you need here. You will be fine. "

"How can I bear a child like this?!" The misery in your voice was clear as daylight.

The god moved his hand to your cheek, turning your head and giving your forehead a gentle kiss. "You may not have faith, but I do. You will love them with all your heart. I know you will."

You sat at the table, struggling with a pair of knitting needles. Your god had dropped off a few books on his last visit, as well as a basket of yarn. Now you were attempting to learn the art of needlework, something you'd never thought to learn before.

You rested a hand on the slight swell of your stomach. It had been about three months since you'd started your new life in this little cottage. He was right. You had everything you needed here.

Suddenly the book fell off the table. The ground trembled slightly. There was a loud cacophony coming from outside, was that horses?

From the sound of it, yes. Several of them.

Or perhaps your god brought his eight legged horse he mentioned?

No, it couldn't be him. He was not supposed to return to check up on you for at least another few weeks.

Looking around, there were very few places to was the wardrobe though, and you stuffed yourself in, curling up best as you could in the corner.

You heard voices. Boisterous ones. And the sounds of clanking armor.

"What do we have here?" The wardrobe door was opened and a voice resonated. it wasn't a rasping voice, or malicious. Rough, yet kind. Still, you didn't dare look up into the face of the one who trespassed in your home.

"Maiden? There is no need to fear me."

You were shaking now. And there was a hand, taking yours and pulling you up from the wardrobe.

The voice was speaking again, to someone else in your home. "She's obviously been traumatized. Prepare to saddle up again."

A hand grasped your chin, forcing your gaze upward. A rough voice indeed, and a weathered face though the man couldn't be older than forty. His eyes were bright and his beard was short trimmed and red. Behind him stood another man. Both were armored well.

"Maiden, are you well?" His eyes fell to your pregnant stomach. You watched his expression change and sharpen.

"I-I am fine..." you murmured.

"Clearly not! A woman with child should not be alone in these forsaken forests." Before you could protest, he grabbed your hand once more, pulling you out of your home.

Outside there were at least ten men and horses, milling about. When this man reunited, they were suddenly alert and began to saddle themselves. He was some sort of leader. He had the airs of a leader, certainly. His armor was finest of them all, gleaming in the mid-morning sun. And were those _rubies_ embedded into the sword hilt at his belt?

You felt hands around your waist lift you up and you were promptly tossed into the saddle. The leader of these men swung up behind you.

"What are you doing!?" you asked, with a sort of panic growing in your throat.

"Rescuing you from this ungodly wood."

"No! W-Wait!" But it was too late for the party of men had already begun to ride and the horse you were on set off into a gallop. You couldn't do much more than watch as the little cottage vanished behind you.


	3. Chapter 3

"W-Where are we going?" you asked. You'd been fairly quiet throughout the ride, up until now. Though there was a glimmer of fear in your breast, you were mostly certain that these men meant no harm. The man in the saddle behind you did claim to be rescuing you. From what, that was uncertain.

"We'll return to the palace," he explained. "Then, I will have the healers summoned to tend to you and your child." You could feel his chest rumble when he spoke.

"Palace?!" you squeaked.

He chuckled. "Yes, of course, do you not recognize your king?"

Now that you thought about it, you were sure you'd seen his face before once, and he certainly seemed royal in manner. Still, this was royalty, and it was disconcerting to say the least.

Now you rode through a proper road, lined with cobblestones. There was a village. starting with shacks and building up into a dazzling array of closely lined homes with towering rooftops and walkways made of crisscrossing balconies.

And the people! So many compared to your old village, they gathered to gawk as the party of nobles rode past. You were terrified, but also felt a sort of secret thrill.

The castle gleamed in the sun, the white marble was cast in a gold glow from the late sun. It fair took your breath away, and the king was not blind to your awe.

"Does the sight leave you speechless, Maiden?" he asked. Your face was enough of an answer.

The party rode with ease through the gates, coming to a stop. Everyone dismounted and the stablehands rushed out to assist. You let out a small 'eep!' as one of them lifted you by the waist from the saddle. Did no one think you could dismount of your own?

The king followed suit, and stood at your side, ever as commanding.

"Yosef," he addressed the boy come to take his horse directly. "See that Missus Carmelia gets this young woman settled, please."

He nodded enthusiastically, taking the reins and gesturing for you to follow.

"It's not very often that King Roland has guests, except usually the ones he does have are the peacock and dandy type. Y'know, last there was a lady, she dumped a goblet of fine wine down his doublet when he forgot her full name'n title." Yosef chattered good naturedly while you followed him to the stables and watched as he removed the horse's saddle and bridle.

"Come with me, we should find, Carmelia. She's probably upstairs, maybe in the powder room? She's always going in there to fix her face and all that. Women's stuff." You were starting to feel annoyed at all this moving around and uncertainty, but Yosef was polite, if over talkative, and you were curious who this Lady Carmelia was. There were also a lot of stairs to climb, and mazelike hallways to traverse before you stopped at a particular doorway.

He knocked boldly, only for there to be the sound of flurried feet and something being dropped and a woman opened the door. Her face was meticulously painted, not a curl of her hair was out of place, and she looked extremely irritated. Her eyes widened when she saw you, dressed plainly and looking tired and unkempt.

"Yes, my dear?" she addressed you, tilting her head slightly.

"King Roland's new guest needs to get settled, and he sent us to you," Yosef explained, drawing the lady's gaze back to him.

"Yes of course. You are dismissed. Now come with me, dear." She flicked her hand and him and grabbed yours, pulling you down the hall yet again.

"This... this is too fine, Missus," you said, staring around the chambers that were now apparently yours.

"Nonsense, Lady..."

"My name is (y/n), but I am not a lady. I still don't understand, why I am even here?"

Carmelia smiled. "The king does love his company, and he gets quite lonely. I imagine any opportunity to welcome a soul in need to the palace would be taken. And someone in your condition needs rest and good care." She looked pointedly at your pregnant stomach. "I'll send for a nursemaid, dear. You just stay and rest." She shook a finger at her and glided out of the room.

Not ten minutes later, she came back. This time, another woman followed. The nursemaid was a short, bony looking creature with crinkles around her eyes from smiling.

"You can't be too far along, now can you?" she mused. "I wonder..." She paused, but Carmelia asked the question you'd been dreading.

"Who's the father, dear?"

You stiffened, and they noticed. "H-He's... dead."

Carmelia's hands flew to her mouth. "Oh, i'm so sorry, my dear! A widow, at your age!"

The nursemaid clucked her tongue. "Such a shame."

"You're such a lovely thing too! Much like myself at that age." She fluffed her curls and wrung her hands. "Worry, not. The palace has many comforts. The king is most generous."

You went along with them, although the tears that pricked the corners of your eyes were not false. You sat patiently while they fussed. The nursemaid busied herself examining you, and declared that you were in perfect health. The child with any luck would be a strong one, though early on it was hard to say much.

Before the pair of older women departed again, Missus Carmelia had one last thing to say.

"I do hope that you'll join us for a late dinner banquet, dear. A chambermaid will come soon to prepare you. We'll all be dining with the king tonight!"


	4. Chapter 4

As promised. Carmelia sent a chambermaid within the hour to assist you. However, you were silent throughout, as the unfairness of this all presented itself. Anger was beginning to build, and your face was stony.

The dress you were given was one of the finest you'd ever seen, with a high neck and a dark violet silk that flowed, naturally hiding the swell of your stomach. You very nearly smiled when it was presented. Whoever it was made for, that was unknown, but it fit very well.

While you sat at the vanity, letting the slightly timid young girl sent to you brush out your hair, you thought of your god. Would he know where you were? Or even that you were taken away? Perhaps not.

 _"My dear, I am not all knowing." He smiled at you from across the table. You'd grown used to his visits every other week, and set to asking him questions about anything and everything a god might know._

 _"Truly? Strange, all the stories i've ever heard of gods spoke of immense power and knowledge."_

 _"I may have greater senses and strength than you Midgardians, but we gods must work to our achievements as well. And not all of us are that wise."_

 _"Oh, really?" There was a teasing lilt to your voice, and a warmth. Despite only knowing him a few weeks, you were becoming quite fond of Loki._

 _"Yes, of course. Thor, god of thunder is not the kind of think before he acts. Great buffoon..." he muttered the last part and you giggled._

"I-I am done, my lady."

You were shook from your reverie by the girl. Looking in the mirror, your (h/c) hair was braided and pinned back, with loose strands circling your head strategically.

"Thank you," you said, somewhat stiffly. You didn't really recognize yourself like this. The woman in the mirror was beautiful, but she didn't seem much like you. Too refined, too controlled, and with a somewhat sour expression.

"You've never even been to a proper feast?" Carmelia asked, her arm linked with your as you made your way too the dining hall. You were awed by all the decorations and splendor on display you hadn't notice before, and you desperately needed a distraction from the anger settled in the pit of your stomach.

"No," you said, coming back to focus. "I've never seen a palace either. Where I grew up, there was nothing like this."

"Then you'll love it!" Carmelia declared. "The music and entertainment, the romance and excitement! Oh, it's spectacular!" She was as excited as a child, and practically skipping. A perfect contrast to you.

The main dining hall was decorated even more lavishly than the hallways, with banners and chandeliers and merry colors everywhere. The people sat and talked at tables, or they danced without rhyme or rhythm at the center of the floor. King Roland was not on a throne, but a regular seat at the table with a cluster of nobles. He saw the pair of you and his eyes lit up.

"Ah, my ladies. Welcome, welcome!" There were two seats, one next to him, and another across. Carmelia was already in the one across, so you moved to Roland's side.

"You look lovely, my lady." He was all jovial smiles and kind words. You however, felt the anger in your stomach stir slightly.

"Thank you, your majesty, but if I may ask, why am I here?"

He blinked, still with that smile. "To make merry with us, of course."

"I mean, why am I with you at the palace?" Your voice was stern, and Carmelia's eyes darted from you to the kin and back again. The others at the table must have noticed how the air had suddenly become unappetizingly tense, because they opted to dance away.

"For your own protection, my lady."

"I was not in danger, and you took me with you despite the fact I may have had someone with me." You stared him down, unamused.

"There was not a soul in those cursed woods for miles around, or my men and I would have known it. You saw fit to hide yourself away when you thought there was someone. There was not nearly enough room in that cottage or bed for two. You bear no ring on your finger, yet you are with child. The way I see it, you were in hiding, though from what or who, I do not know. You have nothing to be upset about." He spoke with an efficiency as though reciting off of a list. You were truly enraged now, and stood, hands clenching the table tightly.

"I did not ask to be taken from my home, and you see no reason why I should be angered? You brought me here with little thought of my opinions, and you have not even thought to ask my name!"

"(y/n)," Carmelia started, before thinking better of it.

Without thinking, you grabbed a chalice of wine and flung it at him. It smacked him in the broad chest and fine wine ran down his doublet. He stared in shock at your retreating form.

"Your majesty!" Carmelia pulled out a handkerchief and stopped when he began to laugh riotously.

"She's a spitfire, that one!"


	5. Chapter 5

You avoided the king, and almost everyone else. You liked to sit in you room, pretending that you were back in your cottage with Loki's visits and the quiet of the wood, instead of the always buzzing halls of the palace.

Not that Carmelia and the other noblewomen were terrible, but you couldn't see yourself among them. She visited with you and traded courtly gossip. For weeks after the wine incident, rumors were traded back and forth willy-nilly. They ranged from the petty to the ridiculous, such as one tidbit going around that you and he were secretly lovers. You snorted when she told you, and almost spit up a mouthful of water.

As your belly grew, you became more and more unsure. What would happen to you? To this life growing inside you? Would King Roland return you to your home, or were you trapped in this fancy golden cage? At least if you were, the baby would not want for anything.

You tried to imagine what they would look like. Perhaps they would have your (h/c) locks, or your eyes. Or that man's eyes, those cold dark ones clouded with lust and rage. Shuddering, you placed a hand over your stomach, taking a deep breath. Then, a stranger thought came to mind. A baby, perhaps a girl, with a tuft of dark hair and those pretty sea eyes with that laughing shine to them.

No. That was as implausible as anything. But still the thought warmed you, it was comforting.

You lay on your side, staring unseeing at the window until sleep overcame you, a smile upon your lips.

"Heimdall, bring me to Midgard please." Loki stood at the observatory, bouncing on the balls of his feet restlessly.

He traveled across the Bifrost, and even the uncomfortable feeling in being sucked along it's path did not dampen his spirit. He dropped into the woods, a few minutes walk away. With a wave of his hand, a stack of books for you appeared in his hands.

He strode forward eagerly, but stopped dead.

The grass path was crushed to nothing, and faint hoofprints were everywhere, as well as footsteps. A lot of horses had been through here, recently.

Loki's heart jumped to his throat, and he ran, following their trail that lead straight to your home.

The door was ajar, and more hoofprints as well as at least twenty sets of feet were imprinted in the dirt. He dropped the books.

"(y/n)? (Y/N)!" he called out to you. There was no response.

He wrenched the door open, breathing heavily. The room looked like it had been searched, things were scattered across the floor. A vase of long dead lowers sat on the table.

 _She is gone, she is in danger, she is gone- what about the baby!?_

"(Y/N)!" He dropped to his knees, cradling the abandoned knitwork on the floor by your chair. It was his green, a blanket maybe, and nearly done. He scooped it up in his arms. The boiling venom of rage began to flow through his veins, and he let out a guttural noise.

Waving his hand, he disappeared from the cottage, leaving behind nothing but a trace of green light.


	6. Chapter 6

As time continued to roll by, you left your room more and more. It was clear after these few months that nothing would change and it was best to make the most of it all. Carmelia was delighted naturally and the two of you took up a routine of sorts, visiting each other in the gardens where she taught you the finer points of a noblewoman's life. Embroidery, curtseys, dance steps you would never use.

King Roland, it seemed, had forgiven you entirely for the wine incident. He treated you with respect and even joined you and Carmelia once or twice for a luncheon. He was very kind, though you still held a few lingering wisps of a grudge. What he did, it was to protect you and your baby, he simply acted in your best interests.

"(y/n), it is the king's name day tomorrow," Carmelia declared one morning. You just about choked on a too-hot sip of tea.

"Really? I would have thought there would be more fanfare."

"Yes, so would I," she admitted, brow scrunching up slightly. "It is said he has some great surprise for us all. I myself can hardly wait!" She giggled girlishly.

It was strange, but you quickly put the thoughts of surprises aside.

~~~

"The king's asked you to attend supper with everyone else," Yosef peeked through the door at you curiously. The young stablehand was more than he seemed, dressed as befitted a squire.

"Oh, I see. Thank you. I did not know you were a squire. Who is your knight?" you asked. He wore no discernible house sigils.

"The king himself, Milady!" He puffed his chest out proudly. "I was a stablehand, then he started asking me to help with his messages and the like. Soon he just made it official so I wouldn't be busy when he needed me."

You smiled. He was always so cheerful that it seemed to rub off onto everyone around him. "I think you'll be a wonderful knight someday, Yosef."

He beamed and wrapped his arms around your ever-growing middle in a hug. You returned the embrace.

"And when you have your baby, I get to be his big brother! I'll protect him from danger and teach him to be brave like King Roland!"

You didn't have the heart to refuse him his wish, to tell him that you would leave with your babe to your true home.

~~~

The dinner was formal, yet uneventful. Several courses were served, all of them extravagant and rich beyond compare. You watched as the people laughed and traded banter, the king in the midst of it all. You sat a few seats down from him, too far to engage in conversation, yet you heard him. He seemed to have a light heart and a quick enough wit.

When the people around you began to retire for the night, Roland gestured to you to follow him. You trailed nervously clutching the dark green fabric of your gown until you both stood in what looked to be a private study.

"You've no doubt heard from Missus Carmelia of a surprise i've been preparing."

"Yes, you grace." Despite the sudden bout of nerves within your stomach, you held your head high.

"I have a... well a request of you," Now he suddenly seemed to be on edge and nervous as well. He gulped, steeling his resolve.

"Marry me, (y/n)." His eyes were so earnest, and they scared you.

You stepped back, horrified. "W-what? Marry!?"

He stepped forward, taking ahold of your hands. His grip was strong, yet still gentle.

"I have become taken with you since your arrival, Lady (y/n)!" He confessed. "You are beautiful beyond compare, and you will fulfill my greatest wishes." With his compliments seeking to woo you, his words were beautiful. No one had ever said such things to you, speaking of love and marriage. Yet there was an undeniable hollowness in your heart.

"I cannot. I... I don't-" You stumbled to find the right words. Roland seemed to understand.

"Hush, my lady." He leaned in further, his grip on your hands tightening. "I will give you your greatest desires. Even love may come into your heart one day. Until that day, you shall not want for anything."

"And what is my greatest desire?" You retorted.

"For your child to grow, safe and happy." He released your hands and you clutched them protectively around yourself.

"You wouldn't!" you blurted, feeling a rush of fierceness unlike anything you'd ever quite felt before. You backed up, brushing against the desk and feeling like a cornered animal.

"Hurt the babe? Never, my lady."

"Then why-?"

"Marry me. Give me an heir, a son." He got to his knees before you. "Your child, our child, shall be king, you will be my queen. Is there anything more you could want?"

"B-but! He will not be your son, not truly!"

"Of course he will be, once you and I are wed, and the gentry understand your absence from court to protect you from a jealous noblewoman while we courted in secret."

"No! The servants know, they know this is not your babe."

The king shook his head and smiled, standing and taking another step forward, further trapping you. "Servants talk. Of course it is easy for venomous rumors to be planted to tear us apart."

"We can't," you repeated, voice cracking. You felt your resolve crumbling to dust. This man offered you his world, quite literally. Protection, a life of promise and joy for your baby, love. Roland spoke so wholeheartedly and with so much conviction.

"Y-You will truly protect him?"

He took your hand again, kissing it and placing it against your stomach. "This is no bastard child, but my one true heir," he declared. "Now, (y/n). Will you accept my hand?"

"Y-yes. I will marry you, your highness..."

He beamed wider than anything you'd ever seen before. "Oh, (y/n), you've made me the happiest man in all of Midgard! We will be joined upon the morrow!"

You gave a hesitant smile yourself. As Roland said, love may come of this with time. You would grow to love him, as you would learn to love the tiny life growing within you.

~~~

He searched everywhere he, barely resisting the urge to tear the countryside apart to find you. When he finally did, his heart soared before it plummeted.

You sat in a golden carriage, dressed all in white and looking a goddess. You smiled and waved to the people you passed.

Loki watched from the shadows of the streets, his breath catching in his throat. Roland sat at your side, regal and proud. You were a perfect image of man and wife. Except, if anyone cared to look they would see the tenseness in your shoulders or the tear tracks drying beneath your veil. You'd blamed those tears on marital bliss, but he knew better.

He wanted to stare at you forever, but the sight of Roland did naught but make his blood boil, til the moment had passed and they rode further through the streets, out of sight.

Loki was too late.


	7. Chapter 7

Roland was truly blind if he thought your dreams had come true.

You were queen now, but you were not his. You did not join him in his rooms, nor lie with him. Your baby would be his though, and it scared you to think. One word, and everything could be stripped from you in an instant. If the people thought this baby was not his, they wouldn't hesitate to tie you to that tree again, and this time there would be no rescue.

You walked the halls, seeing the difference something as simple as a title could make. Everyone murmured their polite word, eyes averted as if not even allowed to even make eye contact. But, often when your back was turned you felt their eyes on you, burning through you, silent and observing.

Carmelia too, behaved differently. She seemed so much less cheerful, morose even at times. It was clear. She was the one who truly loved Roland. You were now just some tart who had swooped and taken her hope and accepted a ring.

"Milady! I mean, Your Grace! I have a message for you!" Yosef ran up to you as you toured the gardens for what had to be the hundredth time. He was one of the few who didn't seem to change his tune in the past few weeks and you loved the lad all the more for it.

"A message?" You accepted the paper he held out with interest. A simple scroll with a black seal you didn't recognize. You gasped as a sudden burst of pain spread through your abdomen, clutching your stomach as you nearly fell. Yosef yelped and caught you, pushing you back onto your feet and clutching your sleeve.

"Your Grace?"

"I think..." You paused, thoughts suddenly all a blur. "I think it's time."

"The baby!?"

You nodded. "Help me back inside, please!"

Yosef thankfully kept a level head, acting as your crutch as he led you back inside. You nearly fell again when entering the doors, another burst of pain came. The guard nearest to you rushed over, supporting you.

"She's havin' the kid now, sir! What do I do?" Yosef asked, the panic setting in at last.

"You, go get the king. I'll take her to her rooms."

The guard, despite his lithe frame, picked you up as easily as a small child. You felt a familiar feeling once, carried home in the arms of a god.

Labor for you was a seemingly neverending haze of pain, fading in and out like an ocean tide, with few moments of total lucidity. Until at last, you strained and strained with all of your might. Through the din of nursemaids and midwives as well as your own cries of pain, you heard his voice.

"Is it done?" Roland stood outside the door. The guard shook his armored head.

"No, your highness. It's a long ordeal, childbirth."

"I have to see my wife, let me in," he ordered. If he'd been paying attention, he might have seen the stoked flames of anger in the guard's eyes, but he was looking around him at the door as if he could see through it.

"I'm afraid I can't do that. The midwives insist. And it is not something you would want to see."

"very well, but inform the insta-" Roland was cut off by the loudest scream of all, followed swiftly by a newborn's wail. Giving little though, he pushed past the guard and burst in to see you laying in bed, exhausted and yet fixated entirely on the small bundle in the midwife's arms. You were entranced.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" Was the first thing he asked.

"Your grace, a healthy boy. Congratulations!"

You held your arms out to take him.

"Give him to me," Roland demanded, ignoring your outstretched arms and pleading eyes. The midwife glanced unsure between you and him, before gently setting the babe in his arms.

"You've done well, wife." He smiled over at you. "He will make a strong heir." He still didn't relinquish him unto you, chuckling as he attempted to latch onto his fingers.

"Please," you whispered.

"I will take my leave. Here, take him." He handed him back to the midwife and swiftly disappeared from your room. What he was so eager to leave for was anyone's guess.

"My baby. I want to hold him." Your voice was weak, but still heard. She beamed down at the little one and finally, finally placed him into his mother's waiting arms. "Everyone, get out." You didn't lift your eyes, but your voice was commanding. The maids all bowed and said their congrats. Finally the only ones left were you, the baby and the guard who had carried you here.

"He's beautiful," the guard remarked. He was probably assigned to guard here by Roland, so she didn't begrudge his presence much.

"Oh, he is, isn't he?" It only took once glance down at her son and she was in love. How she could have doubted it before now? Despite what the king might believe, he was yours and yours alone.

"What will you name him?"

She finally looked up at him. "Dag. Daylight. After the old languages."

"I'm sure you'll be very happy then."

You would have passed this comment by, if not for the strange way he said it. As if he were sadder than happy. She noticed a pair of strangely familiar eyes beneath his helm.

"L-Loki?" You cocked your head. Maybe you were too tired from birth and seeing things wrong?

With a long sigh, he turned and locked the door behind him, waving his hand so that his disguise melted away. "It's good to see you again."

How dare he sound so casual? As if he had not been separated from her for months!

"Is that all you have to say?" You frowned, holding Dag closer to your chest.

"No, it isn't, (y/n)." He settled himself on the edge of the bed, toying with the embroidered fringe of the blanket. "I have looked long and hard to find you again. But clearly I shouldn't have been so hasty."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You left with your king, and now look at you." His voice was louder now, closer to angry. "You were a peasant tied to a tree, and now you are a queen!"

"You think I asked to be a queen!?" you shouted. "I never said I wanted to! All I wanted was to go home..." Your voice cracked and Dag began to whimper.

"Your home was ransacked, a half a hundred horse tracks encircling the place! For all I knew, you were dead." He seemed much more vulnerable for an instant, before he straightened up. "We will discuss this later. You need sleep."

"But, I-"

"I'll summon a wet nurse. She's not the one whose being lying in a bed giving birth for nearly eight hours. Sleep."

"Loki-"

"Don't worry. I'll take care of Dag. And you." With that declaration, he smiled and leaned over to kiss your forehead. He took your baby with endless care as you started to doze off.

Before he sent for the wet nurse, he spent a moment just staring at him, wide eyed as a child. If the king was to pretend this was his son, then so be it. If you would let it be, this was his son in truth.


	8. Chapter 8

If ever there was hope for you, it came in the form of your son. He was a ray of light, and even if you never wanted to be a mother, you wouldn't give this up for the world. The way Dag clutched at your hands, his toothless smiles. His eyes were such a pretty shade of blue.

You knew Loki was nearby, and that was motivating too. He didn't make himself known to you again, but you would see a guard out of the corner of your eyes every now and again and just know that it was him. He was always going to protect you.

Roland was delighted by Dag too, and when he approached you once you'd been able to get up and move about, he was all smiles.

"I was thinking we might name his after my father, Cornelius, if you would like that."

"Dag already has a name," you explained, trying to keep the bitterness from your tone. Not discouraged, he took your hand.

"Dag is a fine, princely name, Cornelius can be his second name." In a softer tone, he added, "Our prince will be beloved, no matter what his name may be. All I want is for him to grow to be a strong man, and for you to be happy."

He tilted his head towards yours, leaning in to plant a chaste kiss in your lips. You were unmoving against, a cold stone statue. Even as husband and wife, these tender actions were foreign and unwelcome. You feared the day that he might try to bring you to the marriage bed.

"I know you might not be happy here," he whispered. "I pray that one day you will grow to love me, as I love you..."

"I... can't." You shook your head, backing away from him and running down the hall.

~~~

"This is him? He's so... little." Yosef sat next to you on a stone bench surrounded by wild lavender, examing the baby dozing in your arms.

"If he was any bigger, he wouldn't fit into my stomach," you laughed. "I would have been even fatter."

"So am I his big brother or somethin?" he asked. His eyes grew bright with excitement.

"I suppose so. And I can think of no one better."

Yosef let out a woop, and Dag's eyes cracked open at the noise. "Oops!" he whispered. "Sorry, little brother."

"You should run along, I expect there is work to be done in the stables and I have to feed him."

Yosef saluted with a grin and tore off through the garden.

He ran past a certain guardsman, who knew now where to look for the queen.

You'd fed Dag and he was just beginning to doze again against your chest when a distinct clanking of armor began, drawing nearer by the second.

"Oh, hello... Loki?" You had to be sure it was him.

As an answer, he ripped off his helmet and tossed it to the ground. There he was, looking like he hadn't changed at all. His eyes twinkled with familiar mischief.

"Hello, (y/n)." He sat himself where Yosef had, right next to you. "I saw what Roland did. How he made you hurt."

"He has never hurt me," you said.

"Not physically." He moved to kneel in front of you, placing his hand over your heart. "Here."

You nodded, biting your lip.

"He tells you he loves you, that he wishes you would love him. And you won't let yourself. Why is that? He has everything, a crown, lands, riches galore, he would care for you better than any mortal in Midgard."

You blinked, feeling a sting behind your eyes. that had become all too familiar. "When they tried to sacrifice me that day, I sacrificed my heart as well." Your voice wavered. "It would never belong to Roland, no matter how great his kingdom is. He... he isn't... you."

Teardrops threatened to spill over your cheeks and Dag woke, sensing your change in mood. He began to whimper and cry.

"No, no. Shhh, darling..." You cradled him, rocking him gently in your arms.

A hand was on your cheek, wiping away stray tears.

"(y/n)... if I had only known," Loki started, his voice surpassingly gentle. "I would have never let you alone that day. I swear, I will make Roland pay for every breath he takes, everything he's done, every stolen moment fro-"

"Loki, please," you begged in a whisper. "Don't hurt him. Just let us run. Away from him, this place, everything." You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling suddenly exhausted. Then his lips pressed against yours, gentle, but oh so different from Roland. You sighed into his touch, feeling lighting run up your spine and stars behind your eyes. He parted, and when you opened your eyes, he had vanished.


End file.
